North of Breckenridge

I’m in a mountain town

north of Breckenridge.

I’ve never been, yet

it feels like a homecoming.

The fog phases past each risen peak,

signaling weather over trails

that tuck left and right,

up and through,

and out the tree line again.

Some places

you just feel like you belong.

Some places

have spoken to you in a dream,

in photographs, in stories

that other’s have lived.

Some places

just have room for you,

the space is there to claim

in its soulful familiarity.

So here I am

in a mountain town

north of Breckenridge

and the trees all call my name.

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